


taste bitter and sweet

by boom_slap



Series: short studies in pleasure [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Food Porn, Hand Jobs, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Subspace, i don't think these are undertones anymore sigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: There was nothing he loved more than Martín and the way he would fall apart under Andrés' hands; the way he could be pieced back together, then, with utmost care. He was a precious thing, easy to break, a whirlwind of impressions and emotions that answered to every little wave of Andrés' hand.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: short studies in pleasure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825510
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	taste bitter and sweet

**Author's Note:**

> More porn! I blacked out while writing this, I swear.

Andrés appreciated beauty like nothing else in life. He loved traditional art - painting and sculpture, and architecture, and music. He loved the art of thievery, every heist like a poem, composed with care. He loved beautiful people, of course, mostly women - whimsical and graceful - but he could appreciate men, too.

There was nothing he loved more than Martín and the way he would fall apart under Andrés' hands; the way he could be pieced back together, then, with utmost care. He was a precious thing, easy to break, a whirlwind of impressions and emotions that answered to every little wave of Andrés' hand.

Once he'd discovered that, Andrés became obsessed.

He adored reducing Martín to nothing but a bundle of exposed nerves, shaking under every touch and yet, craving it still, craving pain and pleasure in equal measure, _drowning_ in it.

Andrés took good care of him, too, he _loved_ him after all. Martín could be a lot, so Andrés calmed him down, opened his eyes to the beauty of the world around him, like a _teacher_ helping a lost disciple.

One of the things that often escaped Martín's attention, if he was left to his own devices, was the appeal of a good meal. He would go hungry until it became annoying, and then proceed to stuff himself with fast food or a hastily prepared quasi-dinner. He would forget, that poor thing, that eating could be an exquisite, sensual experience, if done properly.

"Martín," Andrés walked into the room and grinned upon seeing his lover fiddling with his guitar. Oh, how he adored the way Martín was when he played - focused, yet dreamy. "I've made dessert."

He didn't have to say anything else - Martín was already tilting his head curiously, getting up and putting down the guitar. He walked over to Andrés and slid his fingers under his apron, as if he wanted to pull him closer; instead, he used the gentle hold to pull _himself_ in, smiling.

"Will you feed me?" he asked and Andrés threw his head back, laughing. Martín could be such a tease sometimes. Well, Andrés was going to show him what _teasing_ meant.

"You've guessed it, _cariño._ Come with me."

He led him out of the bedroom and downstairs, towards the kitchen. He stopped by the entrance, however, and pulled a silk piece of fabric out of his pocket.

"Kinky," Martín said and Andrés put a hand on his neck, giving him a warm, well-deserved smile. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped the fabric around Martín's eyes before guiding him into the kitchen and helping him onto the counter, where Martín liked to sit and watch Andrés as he cooked. Now, he awaited blindly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Andrés couldn't wait to wipe it off and make Martín's lips open around a moan.

He's prepared chocolate tartelettes, a classic, really, but he's put a lot of ingredients in; all of them were lining the counter, now, waiting to be appropriately used; or maybe not so appropriately after all. The thought made Andrés grin.

First however, he picked up a tartelette and stepped in between Martín's legs, putting one hand on his thigh, massaging lovingly, but not without force.

"Open your mouth for me, _querido,_ " he purred and chuckled at the way Martín's cheeks coloured already. He complied and Andrés put the sweet treat to his mouth.

"Bite," he ordered.

Martín took a bite and smiled as he chewed, clearly satisfied with what he got.

"What do you taste?" Andrés asked quietly.

"Chocolate."

"Mm, yes. The easiest answer. An obvious one. Still…" he reached out for the ingredients and took a piece of dark chocolate. He fed it to Martín, keeping his fingers against his lips.

"It melted slightly, love."

That one phrase was enough for Martín's tongue to dart out, for him to lick the chocolate off of Andrés' fingertips, carefully and reverently.

"Good. What else did you taste?"

"... fruit," Martín murmured, his breath hitching as Andrés pushed himself closer, his hand moving from Martín's leg to the small of his back, his thumb rubbing small circles there.

"What fruit, mm? You have to tell me."

"Strawberry," Martín breathed, a little bit unsure. Andrés wanted to laugh as he felt him shudder under his hands. How responsive, how lovely.

Not pulling away, he picked up a strawberry and put it to Martín's lips, feeling heat pooling in his stomach as Martín bit into it and some of the juice dripped down his chin, looking delicious and positively _sinful_.

"I'm going to have a taste, too," Andrés whispered, the words rumbling deep in his chest. He leaned in and Martín already opened his mouth for him, eager as always, but Andrés licked a stripe up his neck, first, then kissed his chin and the corner of his mouth before letting his tongue slide in. He kissed Martín breathless, pulling him closer with the hand on his back, feeling how hard he already was against him.

"Was there anything else?" he asked against Martín's trembling lips, then.

"I think-... fuck, I think alcohol..?"

" _Exacto_."

He picked up the open bottle of rum. He stared at Martín for a moment, so flushed and needy already, before pouring some of the alcohol over his lips, not caring, no, _appreciating_ how it ran down his neck and spilled all over his clothes.

" _Andrés-_ " Martín gasped, but before he could say anything more, Andrés put the bottle away and dove right in, licking the rum from his mouth, both hands coming to the front to undo the buttons of Martín's shirt and tug it out of his pants.

The moment Andrés put his mouth on his chest, Martín groaned, throwing his head back, arching his back beautifully, one of his hands coming to tangle itself in Andrés' hair as the other rested on the counter, supporting his weight. Andrés hummed, closing his eyes and letting himself taste the bitter alcohol properly, so different from the sweetness and yet, so satisfying as he lapped at the soft skin, grazing it with his teeth until he reached one of Martín's nipples. He bit down on it, careful but hard enough to make Martín moan, his hips buckling up, searching for friction.

The poor thing was coming undone under Andrés' lips and hands, the pleasure rendering him helpless, each sensation heightened by the fact that he was blindfolded; considering what has happened in the Bank, it was amazing that Martín was willing to even wear a blindfold. Then again, he could never disappoint.

Andrés growled as his lips moved downwards and reached Martín's belly, pressing heated, open-mouthed kisses there. Martín was better and tastier than any exquisite meal, and Andrés couldn't get enough of him, of the broken sounds he made, of the way he writhed in ecstasy, reminiscent of Bernini's sculptures.

He rubbed him through his pants, keeping him in place with a firm hand on his hips, listening to the choked moans _already_ bordering on sobs. Andrés chuckled; Martín was nothing short of amazing, captivating, addictive. He would get completely lost in sensation, he'd get under the surface, hoping, no, _trusting_ that Andrés would pull him out after having pushed him in.

Slowly, he increased pressure, intensified the pleasure until Martín started begging.

" _Andrés-..._ Andrés, please, more, _more, harder_ …"

Andrés was a benevolent deity and therefore, he complied.

"Lean back on your hands, hips up," he said, unzipping Martín's pants and pulling them down along with the boxers once Martín did as he was told. Andrés knelt down, pulling the clothes all the way down to the floor, taking the time to take off the socks, too, as Martín panted above him, exposed and vulnerable.

He pressed a loving kiss to the side of his knee and Martín let out a sigh that quickly turned into an almost-scream when Andrés wrapped a hand around his cock and squeezed _hard.  
_

"What more?" he asked, his own breathing heavy. "What more did you taste?"

Martín whined, leaning back on his elbows, shaking all over.

"I don't know," he babbled. "I don't know, _Andrés_ , I don't _care-_ just- fuck me, _please…"  
_

"Think, _querido,_ " Andrés whispered, brushing his lips over the delicate skin on the inside of his lover's thigh. "The filling was creamy, wasn't it? Sweeter than dark chocolate, so very sweet…"

He knew Martín couldn't come up with an answer, not when he was like that. Still, he tortured him for a moment longer with kisses, keeping a firm hold on his cock.

Finally, he got to his feet, taking a long look at the debauched body before him. He reached for the final ingredient, dipping his fingers into condensed milk, heavy and sticky, before bringing it to Martín's mouth, pressing inside without any warning; Martín moaned, his lips parting and his tongue lapping desperately at Andrés' fingers.

" _Delicious_ , mm?" Andrés hummed. He pulled his hand away and kissed Martín again, moaning himself just to rile him up more, to let him know how much he was enjoying it, too, how _good_ Martín was being for him.

He broke the kiss, then, and poured the rest of the sugary substance all over Martín's thighs and groin before putting his hands on his hips to keep him down as he dropped to his knees again.

He took his time licking it all off - it was messy, _dirty_ , even, but so very tasty, so intoxicating. Martín was being more and more vocal, as always when shown excessive affection, his thighs twitching on both sides of Andrés' head as Andrés lapped around his erection, flushed and surely painful, not taking it into his mouth, ignoring it despite Martín's pleas.

It took a while, but Andrés could read Martín like a book, could understand every single reaction; when Martín's breath quickened and his cries became more choked, Andrés finally wrapped his lips around the tip his cock, letting Martín come into his mouth, drinking down every drop.

He didn't pull away.

Instead, he began sucking, his grip on Martín's thighs tightening because the poor, overused thing was trying to scramble away, now sobbing openly, not being able to articulate how sensitive he was, how it must've hurt. Still, Andrés knew very well that he could work him back into hardness, and pull another orgasm out of him. He knew he could break him apart, piece by piece.

So he did.

He stretched it out, working Martín up and almost letting him come down before resuming his ministrations. At some point, Martín's cries turned to whimpers, then to shaky sighs. He became completely boneless, only twitching from time to time, his body covered in sweat, exhausted to the point of complete submission. He couldn't even speak, couldn't form a single sentence and oh, if he weren't the most beautiful picture.

Only then did Andrés get up, letting go of him. He tore the blindfold off of Martín's face to look him in the eyes, glazed over and reddened from crying, the tears still wet on his face. Later, Andrés would wipe them away, he would kiss them away, but for now, he ordered Martín to kneel, voice steady and quiet. Once Martín was on his knees before him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes, Andrés pushed down his own pants, grabbed a fistful of Martín's hair and fucked his mouth until he came.

He watched, mesmerized, as some of his come escaped Martín's abused lips and dripped down onto the floor. Carefully, he moved Martín's head back, his cock slipping from his mouth. Then, he loosened the hold on Martín's hair.

The tension seeped out of his body slowly as he sat down on the kitchen tiles and pulled Martín into his lap, running his hands over the red marks on his body that would turn into bruises in the morning.

"How are we feeling?" he asked softly, keeping his lips right by Martín's ear.

"Tired," was all Martín said, his head rolling onto Andrés' shoulder.

"I'll draw you a bath in a moment, _tesoro,_ we'll take a bath together, mm?" Andrés whispered, closing his eyes and holding him close. "I'll take care of you, as I did just now, we'll go to bed, my perfect little thing, and you'll sleep for as long as you want."

Martín hummed against his neck, pliant and wonderful, broken to pieces by pleasure and pain, a true work of art, trusting completely and blindly in Andrés who would, of course, put him back together so that he could take him apart again. As he always did.

He just loved spoiling Martín, in every meaning of that word. 


End file.
